How to Rock Braces and Glasses
by ZevieObsessed2012
Summary: A new take on How to Rock Braces and Glasses! Kacey Simon never left the Perfs, she's still their Queen. She never got braces and glasses—Zander Robbins did! Junior year is starting and it's about to get pretty rough for the once-hottie/ladies' man/guitarist of Gravity 4. How will Zander cope? Short, multi-chapter fic.


**A/N: Alright! New take on How to Rock Braces and Glasses! I write a lot of stories based on Zevie, but this time, I really want to get back to JUST How to Rock :) so let me know how I do? **

**Chapter 1: Junior Year**

**ZANDER's POV**

"Mom," I beg, refusing to get out of the car. It's Junior year and well. . . things took a different turn this summer for me. I love Brewster—last year was a great year for me, besides having to wear a dress that one time to the dance, getting glued to Stevie, Kevin and Nelson ruining my sculpture by accident, and the occasional run-ins with the Perfs. . .

This year, I wish I could transfer. It's hard to believe that I could ever look like a dork right? Well. . . I do. Over the summer I ended up getting braces. . . and glasses. My dad said no to contacts—"He'll never take care of them properly."

My braces are on too tight—I'm stuck with this _lithp_. At least the glasses look okay, I guess. I mean, I could look like I have bug-eyes, but thankfully I don't. I had a plan—before all this—to ask out my crush, Molly Garfunkel. . . but she'll never take me now, will she?

"Zander, everything will be fine—"

I scoff, and somehow manage to create a lisp out of that, and say, "Yeah, _th_ure you'd think that." I mentally groan at my horrible lisp. That's going to be the biggest turn-off ever to every girl. At least Kevin, Nelson and Stevie won't make fun of me—they're my real friends.

My mom kisses my cheek and says, "Try to have a good first day, okay?"

I roll my eyes and storm out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I throw my bag over my shoulder and try to avoid eye-contact the whole way into the school. I can hear some whispers, and as soon as I get to the band room, where I know I'll be safe, I rip my glasses off my face and shove them into my coat pocket.

I keep my mouth closed and walk into the band room. Kevin and Nelson aren't here yet, but Stevie is. She's tuning her bass, like she usually does before class. The door shuts behind me a bit too loudly and she looks up startled.

"I thought you were the other two," she says, laughing, "You're just lucky I'm in a good mood. I would punch you for scaring me."

"_Th_orry—" I mentally curse, I'm not supposed to open my mouth!

She raises her eyebrows at me and says, "Alright there, Z?"

I nod my head and walk over to my guitar. Stevie leans her bass against the couch and says, "Okay, you're _never_ this quiet, Zander. Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yep," I respond quickly, hoping I don't sound like my mouth is full of metal.

"Then turn around," she says, unconvinced. I can hear the fabric of her clothes rubbing together as she crosses her arms, and I feel like if I turn around, she'll be able to see my braces, even with my mouth closed. Let's face it, even though Stevie's my friend, I don't want her to see me like this. She's one of the pretty girls, and I would rather die than let her know I have braces. . .

_Just 179 days to go_. . . I think bitterly.

"I'm fine," I say quickly, grabbing my guitar and tuning it. I don't want to look at her—she has that stare that can just break me. . . I pity the fool that ever tries to lie to her.

"Zander, I'll make you, you know," Stevie says. I can just picture her face.

The door opens and I groan—Nelson and Kevin. I don't need a crowd right now, in fact that's my biggest fear at the moment. They walk in and Stevie greets them and what she says next shocks me, "Grab him, I'm gonna figure this out right now."

I throw my guitar down on its stand and make a break for the door, but Kevin and Nelson tackle me—they're stronger than they look, and I go down. I groan as the floor winds me, and then Stevie's kneeling in front of me. Her fingers are on the corners of my lips and she squeezes, but instead of opening my mouth, I just make fish lips.

"Zander, open your mouth!" she cries, frustrated with my stubbornness.

I sigh and let my mouth open, and I hear Kevin and Nelson gasp—somehow I knew they would—and Stevie gives them a glare. "Knock it off you two, braces aren't the end of the world."

"Ea_th_y for you to _th_ay," I groan, pushing Nelson and Kevin off of me and getting to my feet.

Stevie rolls her eyes and says, "Zander, come on. We're your friends, who cares what anyone else thinks?"

"Again: ea_th_y for you to _th_ay," I say, aggravated more by this lisp. I run my fingers through my hair to fix it up—a habit of mine—and then slip my bag over my shoulder again.

"Zander, just have the dentists loosen your braces a little, the lisp will go away," Stevie suggests. I know she's only trying to help, but honestly, she's only aggravating me more. Classes haven't even started yet and I've already had enough humiliation for one day.

I groan as I realize that my first class is science, and I have it with the queen of the Perfs, Kacey Simon. Imagine what the Perfs will say when they see I've got braces—I won't even bother wearing the glasses. That'll just ruin me. . .

"I have to go," I mumble, stalking out of the band room. At least without the glasses I can look somewhat like my old self. How am I going to survive the next _two _or even _three_ years with these braces? I can't pick up chicks if I look like a freak!

I walk to my first class without bothering to acknowledge anyone. I take a seat at my usual lab table and wait for Kacey to get here—not that I want her here, she's a Perf and I look like a dork. When she does arrive, I keep my head down.

"Hey, Zander," she says nonchalantly—the perk of looking good, or when I _did_ look good, is that Kacey doesn't look down on me. Wait until she realizes my mouth is full of metal. I sigh and keep my eyes on the book in front of me, pretending to be interested.

"Hey, Ka_th_ey."

If I could punch myself in the face, right about now would be a good time. I keep telling myself to not make a fool of myself, but what do I do? I guess I use words with S's a lot more than I realize.

"What'd you call me?" she asks, raising her eyebrows. She's not insulted, I don't think, just confused.

"I called you your name. . ." I reply quickly, trying not to sound rude.

She puts her bag down on the floor and says, "Whatever, I guess. You and that band of yours are weird anyway." She brushes her hair back over her shoulder and sits down beside me. I close the book and look up at the board.

"Well, aren't you gonna start the assignment?" Kacey asks me, raising her eyebrows impatiently.

I nod my head and look up at the board, but the words are fuzzy. I squint slightly to try and read the white chalk, but it's not use. I can't read anything without looking stupid. Kacey sighs impatiently and says, "Fine, I'll start it."

"Thank you," I respond quietly, watching as she starts.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you? Aren't you like. . . really good at this stuff usually?"

"I'm good at _th_ien_th_e," I say defensively and nearly blushing, embarrassed as I lisp again. "I ju_th_t can't read the board today. The writing i_th_ too _th_mall," I say quickly, hoping she doesn't notice all the "th's".

"Why are you talking funny?" Kacey asks impatiently.

"It'_th_ nothing," I respond, ready to jump out of my seat and sprint home. Today is going awful and the class hasn't even begun! She rolls her eyes at me and turns back to the assignment, and thankfully she doesn't talk to me the rest of the lesson.

The lesson drones on, and finally the bell rings. I fly out of my chair, accidentally pushing past Kacey a little too roughly and then run to the band room. I don't care that I'm about to skip the rest of my classes, this is awful!

I became a freak over the summer and everyone's going to make fun of me. . . I bet even my friends made fun of me a little bit. . . I throw my bag down onto the couch and grab my ukulele from its case behind the guitar stand.

I throw the strap around my neck and strum a bunch of random chords. I just need to cheer myself up right now. . . the first day of school is turning out horribly. I just want to go home.

**A/N: Alright, so that's Zander's [rough] first day of school. . . let me know what you think of this so far? I really like the idea of getting back to JUST How to Rock, but I wanted to make it about Zander and how he would react. So, that's my attempt so far! :) Thoughts are appreciated.**


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